Offer Not Valid in Alaska or Hawaii

A couple of weeks ago I was running errands and I heard a McDonald's radio ad. Honestly, after the words "snickerdoodle shake" my mind was spinning. How could I arrange my schedule of stops to hit a McD's around lunchtime?

Then I heard the dreaded words at the end of the commercial:
Offer not valid in Alaska or Hawaii.

It's a phrase I've heard most of my life. And most of the time I ignored it. I'm certain in some obnoxious teenage moments I mocked the folks living "abroad." But I do remember in one enlightened moment many years ago thinking, "those poor people in Alaska and Hawaii."

Now I am one of those people.

Turns out, when you read the fine print on many things like sweepstakes and giveaways, it's only valid for the contiguous United States. That's right--we even have a specific vocabulary for ostracization. Think about it. When have you heard "contiguous" used for anything other than excluding Alaska and Hawaii??

We're limited in what we receive on Maui, so several times when I've shopped at some online stores hoping to either have things shipped directly to me or at least to a local store for pick-up, I was disappointed but not surprised when some things weren't available for either.

What was surprising was the first time I shopped on Amazon.com and got the message that an item I was interested in couldn't be sent to me. That's when you start to question the universe. Because if Amazon can't get it to you, where are you?

On a tangent, I was intrigued to see this article explaining part of the cause of the cost of living and supply issues for those of us living non-contigously. If successful, this legislation would help with the cost of exclusion. Hopefully, it would also have some impact on availability.

Still, geographic isolation means even with the best of intentions and logistics, some things just aren't feasible. So, while on the mainland for Christmas I tried the snickerdoodle concoction (turns out it's a McFlurry, not a shake).

Was it good? Yes. Would I have happily paid extra for it on Maui? No.

As frustrating as it feels at times, I like to think the universe has some sort of plan. Or at least a system of balancing the scales. So, whether or not you know what you're missing, in the grand scheme of things, it will all work out the way it's supposed to.

Because...this.

Of Gratitude and Graciousness

Today is an in-between day. A purgatory of sorts between holiday and holiday season. We've had our Thanksgiving and Black Friday. Today we can "recover." Tomorrow (for me at least) is a time for decorating and preparing for the best month of the year.

But make no mistake, this time of year is about family and friends and giving, and that's easiest when you're grounded, safe, healthy, solvent.

It was a tradition with my Hamburg and Munich blogs to do a Thanksgiving post. The list of things I'm thankful for hasn't changed, but the focus has.

On Thursday I volunteered to feed the homeless at an annual event coordinated by the Lahaina Town Action Committee. With 250 volunteers in attendance, instead of working in the kitchen I was assigned to be a "host"--to accompany guests from the front gate to the dining hall of the local elementary school, get them drinks, sit and talk with them during their meal, and escort them back past local groups providing free toiletries, towels, etc.

Although the purpose of the event is to help those in need, it was open to any and all who wanted to come by. In my two hours of volunteering I had the privilege to spend time with three individuals:

• First there was D., whose wife was working one of the church tables and who himself works with the homeless. He confirmed for me many of the things I'd already seen/experienced for myself: the wide income disparity, severe housing shortage, and serious drug problem on Maui. 

• Next was S., a 50-something painter from California who's lived on Maui for the past decade. Not homeless, he told me, but section 8. He was friendly and inquisitive and normal, like the awesome neighbor everybody wants to have but rarely gets. I saw him again a couple of hours later when we passed each other on our bikes as I was heading home. 

• Finally, there was K., a 20-something surfer who had given up his travel photography gig to relax, was dating a "celebrity," (I didn't ask who because it sounded like she was an Instagram star and I figured I wouldn't know her anyway) and, upon finding out I was a writer, suggested I write about Maui and its issues. K. was genuine and earnest about not taking without giving and, frustrated he couldn't volunteer in the moment, vowed to come back at the end of the event to help clean up.

It was heartening to see so many kids as part of the volunteer crew, and that all of us, volunteers and guests alike, were diverse in age, gender, ethnicity, and circumstance.

Yesterday, however, I put my blinders back on and did Black Friday. In a small way. I arrived at the local outlet mall when it opened at 7 am, hit the stores on my list, and was out of there in an hour. No crowds, no fuss, no stress.

Most of the items were to finish Christmas gifts for family. But there were a couple of impulse items for me. For years my rule has been if I'm buying something and it's not a replacement, I have to give up something in exchange.

When I got home, excited about my new acquisitions, I thought about the packed dining hall the morning before. I thought about what it means to have and not have, and to be inconvenienced versus having to struggle.

To be clear, this was not some self-indulgent glass-tower musing. In the not-so-distant past, Larry was sick and unemployed and I was trapped in what had become a miserable job situation because he needed health care and my meager income was the thinnest of barriers between us and homelessness.

It was as if many of those abstract issues--those political talking points or things that happen to "other" people--were suddenly snowballing us. The medical bills began piling up: co-pays and uncovered costs for experimental pain management procedures. My income, as a creative and as a woman, was only 30% of what Larry made, which of course could not cover mortgage and utilities and food and that rising tide of new bills.

After two years we declared bankruptcy, with my income, Larry's return to limited consulting work, and our underwater mortgage as our only remaining assets. Even with the credit hit and the embarrassment of our "fall from grace," we still had it better than many. We still had a home.

A CareerBuilder survey found that more than 3/4 of Americans live paycheck to paycheck. And these aren't just minimum-wage workers. We have become a society of people with eyes bigger than our wallets.

I had simplified considerably when we moved to Germany, primarily because of space limitations and the cost of shipping so much STUFF. I made the same effort to simplify when we moved here, and I continue to pare down as I find things I no longer need.

Months ago I had set aside some of those things with the intention of selling them on eBay. Not for buying food or gas or cell phone time; just for some pocket money so I could continue indulging in occasional treats.

Yesterday, as I thought about our tough times and all of those people I saw on Thursday going through their own tough times, I put that stuff into bags to donate. Then I did another sweep of my closet and drawers for things that were on the border of wanting but would be better off serving someone's immediate needs instead of my "just-in-case" scenarios.

So, I am still grateful for the love and support of my family and friends. I'm grateful for my education and the incredible life experiences I've had so far. I'm grateful for my health, the roof over my head, and the means to do most of the things I want to do.

I am also grateful for the privilege of giving back to others. For the opportunity to listen to people leading very different lives, people who are a bit down but not out, and see them. Remember them. Think hard about the thin lines that separate us from each other.

And keep doing my part to contribute to the greater good.

People are Garbage, part II

So my last post was a bit of a tongue-in-cheek reference to the old adage "you are what you eat." (In this case, with the unforeseen effects of our ongoing pollution, it's more like eat, drink, and breathe.)

But this post is a straight-up indictment of people who ruin things for everyone around them.

In my last post, I mentioned the hundreds of cigarette butts two of us gathered in just a couple of hours in a very limited stretch of downtown cleanup. At least one of our wildfires this year was confirmed to have been started by a smoker.

Is it really so difficult for people to give a moment's thought to the impact of their actions on the people, animals, property, and environment around them?

I've never smoked a cigarette so I can't relate to the compulsion/addiction in the first place, but I have always found the idea that it's ok to just toss your leftovers out the window or down on the ground unfathomable and, frankly, disgusting.

Photo credit: Paul Krushelnycky,
University of Hawaii at Manoa. 

And speaking of disgusting environmental impact, this story is the one that inspired this post in the first place. I mean, who goes off-roading in a national park?

They damaged a trail that might be needed for future rescues, evacuations, etc. and killed sensitive plants that are trying to eke out an existence in pretty harsh conditions.

Hawaii has more than 100 endemic species, which means they don't exist anywhere else in the world. Most of these plants and animals are already categorized as vulnerable or endangered.

The Haleakala silversword species is only found here on Maui, so its callous destruction is even more devastating.

I often describe Maui (and Hawaii at large) as a delicate ecosystem. Not just because of the risk of fires, hurricanes, and rising ocean levels, but because of its isolation.

It's not like you can truck in replacements. Here, once some things are gone, they're just gone.

Thankfully, what's not gone is some semblance of hope. Every day I'm reminded that each of us can do some small part in having a positive impact, and we don't have to wait for an organized group event.

On my early morning power walks, I tend to see the same handful of people. One woman in particular strides with purpose in her reflective safety belt and occasional phone calls.

She carries a reusable bag and a picker with her, and as she motors along she will suddenly stop and go off the trail to grab some wayward trash to put in her bag.

When her bag is full or it's time for her to make her return trip, she finds a trash can, empties the bag, and goes on her way. The first time I saw her I was amazed and embarrassed at how simple a thing it was.

Although I do not follow fully in her footsteps, I do go out of my way now to retrieve and dispose of plastics I find along my route.

I'm not sure what kind of epiphany it takes for the butt-tossers and the off-roaders of the world to get on board. But for the rest of us, I think we can beat back the tide by taking a moment every day to look beyond ourselves and focus on small ways to fix the world around us.

People are Garbage, part I

In my efforts to get out of the house and meet more people, I've signed up with a handful of volunteer organizations. I've already been out on a couple of projects, both involving local cleanup.

It's a worthy effort, especially considering the Pacific trash patch and the increasing problem of microplastics, but frustrating nonetheless.

Because not enough is being done to prevent it in the first place.

My first cleanup project was Adopt-A-Highway with the Pacific Whale Foundation. One Monday morning a bunch of staff and me and a volunteer from Switzerland (!) piled into two vans to tackle a stretch of the main highway.

Cans, bottles, fast food containers, SO MANY CIGARETTE BUTTS. It was expected, but still disappointing.

And the microplastics issue became obvious when I tried to pick up some plastic bottles lying in the dirt. They literally disintegrated in my hand, leaving behind a galaxy of minuscule plastic bits.

I ended up digging down and dumping handfuls of dirt into my collection bag to be sure I didn't miss anything that could be eaten by an animal or washed into the ocean.

You're not even safe if you don't eat fish or
drink bottled water. Microplastics can be
inhaled and damage organs that way as well.

My second cleanup outing was for International Beach Cleanup Day. With most of the choice beach sites already assigned, I partnered with a woman who comes to Maui from California a few times a year, and the two of us took a stretch of the main highway that runs through town.

Again, cans, bottles, fast food containers. Also, clothing, diapers, plastic wrappers, building materials, and we picked up more than 200 cigarette butts in one hour! By the end of it, I felt both proud we'd made a difference and disgusted by our haul.

First, people need to take more responsibility for themselves and their impact. Second, officials need to make it easier for people to step up. My gripe in this regard relates to recycling.

When we lived in San Francisco, we were recycling and composting to (what we thought) was the best of our ability.

This is just the
cruise schedule,
adding 2,000+
people per ship
to an island
of 155,000.
Many more tourists
come on their own.

Then we moved to Germany, where recycling is done on a whole different level but there are massive bins out on the streets every few blocks so people have no excuse to plead inconvenience or cost.

While I didn't expect that same level of diligence when we moved to Maui, as a relatively closed and isolated ecosystem I certainly expected more than what's available here.

The lack of curbside recycling I can handle because the closest recycling center is only a 10-minute drive away. But the limitations on what can be recycled are frustrating, and the fact that there was briefly an electronics recycling program that is now dead is heartbreaking.

From what I've read, the primary reason is economics. Apparently, there's not enough of a population base to make it cost-efficient to collect and sell the recyclables generated here.

Understandable at first glance, but not when the local population is constantly supplemented by tourists, who contribute heavily to the increase in consumable packing, plastic bottles, and cigarette butts. Tax. Those. People.

I'm not even going to go into the politics of origins--how retailers and food providers could be more conscious about how they package and serve items here. Or the politics of economics--how apparently state funding goes first to Oahu to support Honolulu, and the other islands are left with the dregs.

If we are what we eat (or drink or breathe), then all that stuff we so mindlessly toss away is coming back to haunt us. 

It's an age-old American problem (we wear the consumerism crown!) with accelerating and expanding negative implications. The kind of thing I love to sink my teeth into. As crazy as it sounds, this fight feels like home.

A Season for Everything

A couple of weeks ago, Larry started talking about the things he wanted to do "now that fall is coming."

I laughed out loud.

I'm guessing my feeling rivaled that of our friends when we moved from DC to the Bay Area and talked about California weather.

It is true that mango season
is over. Still several green ones
on the tree, but only a few ripen
each week as opposed to the
daily deluge hitting the deck
this summer.

Except that there are seasons in northern--and even southern--California. And as subtle as the seasons may have been in Los Angeles, they were downright "New England" compared to Hawaii so far.

When I moved here at the end of April it was warm nights and warmer days. This summer has been warm nights and hot days.

(The only reason my Canadian hubby hasn't spontaneously combusted is the elaborate air conditioning unit & fan system he's worked out at home, his chance to take a cooling dip in the ocean at work, and the breezes that come in off the water.)

In Costco many weeks ago I overheard a cashier talking to a tourist about winter. She said, "last year it was cold, it got down to 50." I thought about my last four winters in Germany.

I guess it's all relative.

I joke, but it's true that some mornings I go for a walk and it feels quite cool and I'm surprised to find the temperature is at 72 or 73. So yeah, 50 will probably feel pretty cold when it hits.

(If nothing else, it will be good to get a little rain this winter, since fire season parallels hurricane season and is keeping everyone on their toes right now.)

Visiting the other islands is on our list,
so last weekend we took the ferry
over to Lanai and camped
overnight in a beachside park.

One thing I have noticed is how the beaches change. The one I walk along most mornings got a healthy new helping of sand a few weeks back, while another tree-lined beach along the drive to the south seems to be disappearing a bit more every day.

Seasonal change combined with climate change will create a new norm, I guess. So maybe Larry is right, and we need to hit our Hawaiian island bucket list items sooner rather than later...

Ticking the Boxes

Well, I do now know how
to husk a coconut...

Three months. That used to be the amount of time they said it took for people to acclimate to a new situation (job, move, etc.).

I don't know if that idea still holds true, but as I hit my three-month mark recently, I wondered: How am I doing?

I'm measuring progress in baby steps--little everyday things that indicate I'm settling in, like knowing enough landmarks in neighboring towns to get back to where I need to be.

I've had several people stop and ask me for directions or "where's the nearest...," but a few weeks ago someone stopped me on my walk into town and asked how to get to the beach.

The flip answer would be of course to "head away from the mountains till you hit water." And, in fact, you'll find directions here given in terms of mauka (inland/toward the mountain) or makai (toward the sea). 

But without hesitation I was able to give very precise directions on finding the obscure public pathway through a housing development to get to the beach most quickly.

Attended an authentic
luau? Check!

Recently my family came for a wonderful visit, and over the course of nine days we hit many of the things on my Maui bucket list.

So after dropping them and the rental car off at the airport and taking an Uber home, I was not only able to say I'd done most of the things my Uber driver/part-time tour guide suggested for a Maui newbie, I was able to give him a tip on a popular local restaurant!

This week we saw Paul Simon in concert. Although he's retired from touring, he lives here on Maui part of the year and gave a benefit concert for local conservation efforts. As the sea of bodies began streaming out toward the parking lot at the end of the show, Larry ran into someone he knew. Larry!!

Here's Paul Simon on stage with
Hawaiian music legend Keola Beamer

My progress bubble deflated a bit. True, Larry has been here three months longer than me, but he's also been spending more time hanging at the beach and meeting people there.

I, on the other hand, have been meeting people at craft fairs and water aerobics. Few good opportunities for quality hanging out time. 😝

Next on the list: Find my people. I've started a low-key job search, but it would be for remote work, so no additional people there. But I've signed up with a few different groups to do volunteer work, and I'm hoping to find (or create?) a writing group that's not based in Honolulu.

One thing we have taken advantage of is an informal
trading system. We "hired" a mango picker
to relieve us of our excessive fruit and he
gave us guava and avocados in return.

As one local shop owner told me, "Maui's a small rock." But it looks like it's going to take a little more work on my part to get the most out of it.

Did You Know? Fun Maui Facts!

On Sunday night I attended a 30th anniversary/fundraising party for a Maui nonprofit. On the tables they had "flash cards" with some facts about Maui, which inspired me to create this little quiz. Enjoy!

Did You Know: Maui Edition

1. Maui's nickname is...

Valley Isle
Golden Isle
Hula Isle
All of the above


2. Maui's official island color is...

Pink
Yellow
Green


3. You won't find this on Maui. The state of Hawaii has banned...

Assault weapons
Billboards
Retail plastic bags
All of the above


4. Of the Hawaiian islands, Maui has the most...

Vitamin C in its pineapples
Miles of accessible beachfront
Shark encounters
All of the above


5. But not all is in abundance. In the event of disaster, Maui has food supplies for...

Less than a year
Less than a month
Less than a week


6. Maui is part of the the most isolated population center on Earth. Closest neighbor to Hawaii is...

3,200 miles away
2,800 miles away
2,400 miles away


7. Maui is home to the largest dormant volcano in the world, named...

Haleakalā
Mauna Kea
Mauna Loa


8. This explorer is buried on Maui...

Amelia Earhart
Charles Lindbergh
James Cook
All of the above


9. This Maui city was home to the capital of the Hawaiian kingdom before the capital moved to Honolulu...

Kahului
Lahaina
Kihei
All of the above


10. The West Maui Mountains receive how many inches of rain per year?

450
200
365

Time Passages

For the past week I've had this song stuck in my head.

(Or maybe longer than a week, but that's kind of the point.)

Time definitely moves differently here. But it's not like a "land of the midnight sun" sameness where you would be understandably disoriented.

No, day follows night follows day here. It just seems to be at its own pace.

• It could be the unchanging weather. 
• It could be the surreal scenery. 
• It could be the actual physical removal from the real world. 

According to a Maui Facts blog post:

Hawaii is considered the most isolated population center on Earth. It is 2,400 miles from California, 3,800 miles from Japan and 2,400 miles from the Marquesas Islands.

Maybe it's a combination of the above. All I know is I'm still trying to carve out some sort of reliable routine.

And there are things that I'm appalled to find still sitting on my To Do list. Worse, I just shrug and think, "I'll get around to it."

Larry has given up pretense and goes to work most days in his swim trunks to make his daily cooling-off dip in the ocean that much easier. (Although the ocean is literally across the street from his office. There's no real struggle there.)

I've been fighting to hold onto my "What Not to Wear" rules of dress, but find myself, too, prioritizing ease over aesthetics.

Is it something in the sunlight? Water? Mangoes I've enjoyed off the tree in the backyard?

I'll keep you posted. At some point. When I get around to figuring it out.

Someday.

Finding Independence

Happy 4th of July!

On this Independence Day I wanted to talk a bit about finding independence--freedom, really--as part of settling into a new situation.

In the last 10 days we bought a car and received and unpacked all of our stuff! I know, doesn't sound like such a big deal, right?

The car search was slowed by several factors (mainly available inventory and price versus perceived reliability). But now that we have our own means of regular transportation, we can start our journey down the list of things we want to do.

The journey to get our stuff? Well, that was much longer and more stressful...

Some dates for reference:

• Larry left Munich in late January. He camped and spent a few nights with his new boss until moving into our (empty) place at the beginning of March.
• The movers departed our Munich apartment on April 9 and our stuff left Germany on April 14.
• The cat and I left Munich on April 30.
• Our stuff was supposed to arrive in Honolulu on June 7 and then be transported here to Maui for delivery.

To make a very long story short, our moving coordinator was horrible. She only contacted us when she needed something (forms, payment) and was otherwise unresponsive. Eventually, after emailing her repeatedly for a status on our stuff, we found out she was no longer with the company. (Wonder when someone was going to get around to telling us that?)

without mentioning any names, don't use this company for your move

Turns out our replacement coordinator was equally unresponsive. So, after tracking down and pestering the person who'd filled in for our first coordinator during an absence, we finally got word that our stuff had arrived--two weeks later than the original schedule--and we would be contacted by a local affiliate to arrange delivery the following week.

Now, I am a worrier. And when things don't go according to plan, I assume the worst-case scenario. In this instance I had two top contenders: 1) our stuff was lost and no one had the decency to tell us they couldn't find it or 2) there was an international conspiracy to loot our shipment, hence the delay and lack of communication.

[Just so you don't think I am unreasonably paranoid, we were given the information for the ship (supposedly) carrying our stuff, but after the projected arrival date passed and we had no word, I looked up the ship's itinerary online. It had not been, and was not scheduled to be, anywhere near Hawaii. In fact, two different tracking sites showed its location as the North Sea at that time.]

I thought about what it would mean, in either loss scenario. Rebuilding 20 years of collaboration and comfort. To be honest, there was a tiny part of me that was a little excited about the prospect of truly starting over. Of gaining freedom from the past and the expectations that come with it. But then I thought about the irreplaceable things we might have lost. And the idea of buying new things with an eye toward the convenience of the next possible move was just depressing.

Another thing we were not told: our stuff was
delivered in a 40-foot container, not the 20-foot
that had been referenced all along.
Had we known it was shared space we would
have been prepared for a delay. And had we
known it was going to be a bigger container,
we would have prepared the neighbors
in our small cul-de-sac!

Still, when the container arrived, I was conflicted. Same old life, different location? Or same great life, different great location? And the skeptical worrier in me still suspected there had been a screw-up and when they started unloading it wouldn't even be our stuff!

But it was, and it was like greeting many old friends. Thankfully I'd had two months to measure and obsess over where things would fit in a space that was only 2/3 the size of our last place. There were a few hiccups that meant some last-minute rearrangements, but it fit and...it felt really good.

When we moved to Hamburg and then to Munich, many people were surprised we brought everything with us. A lot of people told tales of getting rid of everything and coming abroad with just a couple of suitcases, and at times I felt defensive about our decision.

Should we have been more carefree? It certainly would have been easier on our finances upfront. But then I thought about how people don't criticize military or diplomatic officials when they do the same thing. Why is our comfort any less important?

On the "To Do" list for next week:
hurricane emergency kit assembly
and lots of hard thinking about
what's really "irreplaceable"

As a child I moved every few years and the choice was not mine to make. But I loved the life. In fact, as an adult, when the choice has been clearly mine to make, I've never lived in one place more than four years at a time.

Larry and I are homebodies. We like the trappings of the familiar. And we've realized it's okay that we don't really want to drop everything but a backpack and sleeping roll to start over each time we move.

I had plenty of adventures overseas where I struck out on my own to explore. I suspect I have more to come. But coming back to what feels comfortable is how I recharge. It's how I feel more like I'm at home and living my life than merely existing somewhere temporarily.

And yes, if one of my moving-disaster scenarios had occurred or (more likely) a natural disaster strikes, we would of course need to pick ourselves up and start over like many people have to do all the time. But when you have a choice, it's okay to make the choice that in your heart you know works best for you.

Because knowing what you do and do not need for your own peace of mind, your own creativity, your own sense of self--that, to me, is true independence.


Check out the "before" and "now" pictures of our new place here.

A Bug's Life

Life in the tropics means insects.

I knew that. And it bubbled up vaguely from memories of a summer study abroad in Puerto Rico and Barbados. But it was largely just a concept until I started researching what might be causing my outbreak when I first got here.

Of course there were the usual potential villains: mosquitoes, ants, spiders.

• Mosquitoes. No fear factor here, but I would consider them a significant nemesis because I have a reaction to their bites. In Germany they sprayed for them. Here, they are unhampered and have cousins who like to bite no matter the time of day. I'm quickly adjusting to having bug spray handy.

• Ah, ants. Yes, they're a nuisance, but as long as they're not of the fire variety, I'm happy to just manage crumbs and wipe down the scent trail from these occasional invaders.

• Spiders. These are the only things that can really get me going. After running across this website about species endemic to Hawaii (on top of the "usual" spider species), thankfully I've only seen the daddy long-legs variety in the house. And they're insubstantial enough not to bother me too much.

But even after I'd uncovered the source of my bite discomfort, I kept exploring. My mistake.

This photo is from one of the "bugs in Hawaii"
sites. Nope. Don't know what this guy is thinking.

Most of the websites I visited talked about the centipedes here. One in particular was talking about their stubbornness when they bite.

I had no idea centipedes bite people. But the idea remained a distant concept until we saw one in the driveway, partially crushed by a neighbor's scooter.

It was around the same length of the one in the photo, but a bit wider. And since we are sleeping on a mattress on the floor until our stuff arrives, for the two nights after I saw that thing, it took a long time for me to relax enough to sleep.

Then there was the incident a few weeks ago. While in the shower, I noticed a blob on top of the drain. Without my glasses I couldn't make out exactly what it was. Afterwards, with glasses on and every intention of cleaning up hairball or sand ball or whatever it may be, I pulled back the shower curtain.

And just as quickly (and much more violently) pulled it shut.

What I could see in my brief look was a sizable dark form, upside down, with an indeterminate number of legs in the air. All day I was haunted by the thought there was a wolf spider or other massive arachnid playing dead in my bathroom. I worked at convincing myself it was a small crab, just to find some peace of mind.

Call it non-feminist or wussy or whatever, but I waited, and when Larry got home I made him investigate. He promptly disposed of a dead cockroach of, well, tropical proportions.

We were walking home one evening and saw this
guy crawling across the top of a low garden wall.
(That's Larry's thumb for reference.) Our friend 
in the shower was half-again as big.

In a prior life I would have been appalled at the thought of bugs in my house. It's still not a happy concept, but since we only have canned cat food and things you can cook on a grill, it's not a reflection on how we live, but where we live.

And as I enter week seven of living in paradise, I accept that when I stop worrying about the little things I might see at my feet, I can spend more time looking out and appreciating why humans and bugs alike thrive here...

At the Risk of Being a Potty Mouth...

I noticed the phenomenon when I first arrived here. I went to the airport restroom before waiting for my bag, and the toilet was noticeably lower than what I was used to. I figured I was either more tired than I thought, or it was an odd quirk.

At my new home, no issues. But the next time I went out, the same thing. And the time after that. I wondered if this was how it was for taller people all the time, sitting down and having your knees jut skyward at an awkward angle?

Then we went someplace--a restaurant, I think--and no issue. Was I just imagining the whole thing?

The plus side of my online searching is
I now know of toilet museums to add
to my bucket list. ;)

I did an Internet search and came up with nothing. Well, I came up with a lot of articles about "low-flow" toilets and standard- vs. ADA-height toilets, but nothing on whether the toilets in Maui's beach/public, restaurant and retail/mall restrooms were shorter than normal.

It's not a normal thing to obsesses over, I know. But let me explain a bit. When I was younger and started traveling on my own, I would document the "facilities" wherever I went.

African outhouse, antique water closet, castle commode, whatever it may be. The amateur sociologist in me was always fascinated by how different societies viewed our necessary if unglamorous bodily functions.

Eventually I stopped actively capturing these experiences. (It gets harder to explain a photo collection of privies if it's not related to research on an active project.) But the curiosity remains.

Earlier this week, I was walking home for a couple of miles along the beach and stopped to use a restroom. Again, I plunked down unexpectedly.

So I conducted the very unscientific test of measuring the height of the bowl against my leg and doing the same when I got home. There definitely seemed to be a difference!

Is this it? Are they using child-height toilets
in most of the public restrooms??

Even though I'm no closer to an answer, I'm not desperate enough to start carrying around a tape measure to confirm my suspicion, or to bring it up in conversation with Larry's co-workers or the people I meet.

Yet.

It's also not likely there's an island-wide conspiracy to gaslight me. But if you have some insight into what the @%!$ is going on here, please share!

Getting from Here to There

For three-and-a-half years we lived happily without a car. Bike, bus, tram and train meant not only did we not have to worry about parking, insurance, or break-ins, but could avoid the daily stress of driving.

We had hoped, with our move to a convenient neighborhood just a mile from Larry's office, that we could carry on in car-free bliss. But the thing about Maui is there are limited options to get around.

I don't even have a bike, because our stuff doesn't reach Hawaii till June 7.

Correction: I don't have my bike. We have the generous loan of a bike from Larry's office, but its braking reliability is highly suspect on the steeper streets in our area.

There is a bus system that seems to cover the island well, though not nearly as frequently or efficiently as what we've been used to.

This is the driveway where we live. Three units
with two tandem parking spots for each. The
large red-and-silver moped is the one we own.
The small car behind it is our most recent rental.

We have a two-person moped that's great for local trips, but not safe enough for cross-island or upcountry exploration.

Besides, Larry uses it for commuting every day, it's heavy, and I don't know how to drive it. Oh, and it's also not practical for hauling.

Recently we purchased a portable air conditioning unit. We also ordered and assembled a grill, which requires a propane tank. For the former, we rode the moped to the seller's place and I traveled home with it via Uber. Same drill for the propane tank.

Not a sustainable model.

While in downtown Lahaina, I walk to my heart's content. Outside of town, however, there's the same option for pedestrians, scooters, cyclists, and cars: the highway.

This is my commute path for
anywhere outside of central
Lahaina--on the shoulder
along Highway 30.

The first three categories share the shoulder, while the cars take the road. If you look at the Maui Road Map below, you immediately see why.

The red lines are the island's major roads. There aren't that many, and none more than four lanes.

On our side of the island, the main highway is only two lanes for much of its stretch, which means if there's an accident, everyone is stuck.

And the one thing you don't see on this map is a network of surface street alternatives.

That's because they don't exist. 

Housing developments are mostly self-contained, and there are no region-spanning avenues or bypasses.

(The Lahaina bypass starts just south of downtown and runs for a couple of miles before it ends and dumps you right back onto the highway just north of downtown.)

When you look at the second map, you see why hopping off the highway and taking a lengthy detour isn't an option. The topography of Maui makes it impractical to try to carve out a spiderweb of side streets. Eventually, the mountains win out, and you're back to circumnavigating the island with the existing highways.

Check out this cool interactive Maui map here:
https://mauiguide.com/maps/

So we've rented a car for two of the four weekends I've been here, and reality has sunk in.

While our overall lifestyle stress is lower, it appears we need to add a vehicular hassle back into the mix.

Now the search has begun in a bit more earnest for a relatively inexpensive and reliable car to help us take full advantage of the other sights Maui has to offer.

Wish us luck!

Starting a New Chapter

Aloha, and welcome to my newest blog--all about making the transition from expat back to citizen in a setting that makes you feel like you're on a permanent vacation.

My previous two blogs were about life as an expat in Hamburg and Munich. Different country, different rules, different language.

So it seems weird to write about my return to the U.S. in the same context. Except that it is. Different country, different rules, different language.

Different country

The United States I left in summer of 2015 and I return to nearly four years later is a different place. In fact, when I told my family I was moving back my mom asked, "Are you sure you want to come back right now?"

Even on a cloudy day it's a stunning view

"Well, since our president doesn't seem to recognize islands as part of the U.S., I think we'll be okay," I joked.

But I'm going to remove politics and social unrest from the equation and focus on that idea--the idea of Hawaii as a place so far removed from the everyday American psyche that it feels like a foreign country.

The landscape is certainly different than what you see on the mainland. Coming from California before the Germany experience, I could argue about the diverse landscapes you'll find within hours of each other just in that one state.

But on Maui you get that diversity--and then some--in a more compact setting. It's like Bay Area microclimates meets LA beaches meets Inland Empire farm country plus Icelandic otherworldly volcanic terrain and, of course, a tropical paradise.

Different rules

Shortly after I arrived, I mentioned how I was adjusting to people being so friendly and open and laid-back when you first meet them. Definitely a shift in gears from Germany, where a neighbor I encountered one day in the laundry room (we'd seen each other several times in passing) asked if she could introduce herself to me (before actually introducing herself to me).

Not your usual traffic accident, but I took this picture
walking along the road to home, where police cars had
convened to get the boat owner's statement.

The laughing response to my observation was that most people here are retired or on their honeymoons, so of course they're happy. An exaggeration, of course, because I've consistently found the same good feeling with locals.

At the mall and the craft fair and the shops downtown, sure. But also at the post office. And the DMV(!).

Or when Larry and I went to go see about buying a car we saw on Craigslist and the seller walked up to me and gave me a hug and said "Welcome to Maui" before even introducing himself.

Each day points me toward some unwritten rule about appreciating the timeless beauty of this place, so why wouldn't you be good to yourself and the people around you?

Different language

Before I left Munich someone asked what I was going to do here besides relax and go to the beach and write. I laughed that maybe I'd learn Hawaiian, having just read an article about the language's recent resurgence.

Little did I know that it might be true.

I grew up as a Army brat, so I'm familiar with different regional vocabularies in the U.S. But this is different. It's not "soda" versus "pop" or "skunk" versus "polecat." It's "keiki" versus "child" and "kama’aina" versus "local/resident."

Hawaiian words are peppered throughout everyday speech. And even in just the few weeks I've been here I've seen how helpful it is to understand some basic root words and how they combine for larger concepts (actually, much like German).

Getting the pronunciation right is going to take some work, but it's important, particularly since most of the street names, locations, highways, etc. are Hawaiian. In Germany, I found a YouTube channel to help with my studies. I might need to adopt a similar approach here.

So, speaking of approach, my goal with this blog is not to compare my last few years abroad with my life here (at least, not all the time). It's to explore the everyday adjustments I have to make in coming back.

And how I find my own way to feel that I'm home.